Turning Wheels (Satan's Devils MC #1): A Blood Brothers Spin off

by Manda Mellett

  “Yes, really. Peg say’s they’re real quick there too. You’ll have the fittin’ and cast taken on Monday, and by Wednesday should have a new leg made.”

  “Wow!” I can’t believe it. “It took a couple of months just to get the appointment in England, and then weeks until I got the prosthesis.”

  “Money talks, babe. Money talks.” He’s still holding my face towards him; now he leans forwards, and after just a second’s hesitation, his lips come down to mine. Despite my uncertainty and inner warnings I can’t help but respond.

  All at once there’s a loud slamming of the outer door, and then a lighter knock on the door to my room.

  “You there, Soph?”

  “Fuck it!” Wraith exclaims, at the same time as I call out that I am. We pull apart as Horse enters the room.

  He eyes us suspiciously, his face tightening as he sees we’re sitting so closely together. “Looks like I came back just in time,” he tells us, his arm muscles tightening suggestively.

  Wraith stands abruptly; he takes a step towards the other man, “No, I was the one who got here in bloody time,” he sneers, “You would have been far too late!”

  Horse shakes his head and closes the gap between himself and the biker, I draw in a breath, seeing both tall and equally well-built men standing head to head, worried they’re about to come to blows. “What are you fucking talking about?”

  I wish I could get to my feet and put myself between them, but I’m bloody helpless as usual. All I can do is shout, “For goodness sake! Stop it, you two! Calm down! Horse, you don’t know a thing about what’s gone on.”

  The Englishman at least glances in my direction, and lowers his arms to his sides, “Well why don’t you fill me in then?” He tosses a glare at Wraith.

  “She was almost fuckin’ raped. Last night.” Wraith explains, his posture slowly becoming less combative. He goes on to explain what happened, and who was responsible.

  Horse’s anger rises to the fore again, “Where’s this motherfucker now?”

  “In the fuckin’ ground! I made sure of that!”

  I can’t suppress my gasp, knowing that could only mean one thing. I didn’t realise when Wraith said he wouldn’t bother me again that he meant they’d killed him. What kind of man does that make him? I draw back as far as I can as though to distance myself. Did he actually do it himself? Could the man I’d been on the brink of giving myself to, commit murder?

  Wraith turns around, his face falling as though he realises he’s perhaps said too much. Horse pushes past him comes to sit beside me and pulls me into his arms. His smell is familiar and safe as he rests his chin on the top of my head, his hands stroking my back. I relax into his comforting non-sexual and non-threatening touch.

  Watching us, his gaze flitting from one to the other of us, stroking his beard with his hand, Wraith breathes out a long breath. Then, throwing up his hands in a gesture of defeat and giving a mumbled curse he leaves the room.

  For a moment Horse and I sit in silence, then Horse pulls back, and unknowingly mimics Wraith’s gesture as he cups my chin in his hand and gently turns me to face him. “Are you okay, Soph?”

  I don’t answer immediately. Bikers, club whores… I already knew this was a different world. I hadn’t given much thought to what they were going to do with Buster; I suppose in the back of my mind I thought they’d either kick him out of the club or report him to the police. But take his life? For what he did to me? And possibly by Wraith’s hand? The hand of a man who, if Horse hadn’t interrupted, might now have been making love to me?

  “I don’t know, Horse,” my voice is just a whisper, “I can’t believe Wraith or any of them did that. That they are capable of it.”

  “Oh yes,” he replies, “Don’t kid yourself, love. Any of the men here are capable of killing.” At my sharply indrawn breath, he taps his fingers to my forehead, “And that’s why I thought you’d be safe here.” Then he adds with a bemused shake of his head, “Or you should have been.”

  “But I don’t want anyone to kill to protect me.”

  “You’re in an outlaw biker club, love, it comes with the territory I’m afraid. Or actually, in this instance I’m glad. I’d have killed that bugger myself if I’d been here. I’m so sorry that happened to you, I’m sorry I left you.”

  Wondering whether he really would have murdered someone or if it had been a figure of speech, I try to console him. “You’re not to blame, Horse. There’s only one person to blame, and apparently, he won’t be bothering anybody ever again.”

  “Hey, sweetheart, don’t cry.”

  Until he pointed it out, I hadn’t realised that tears were running down my face.

  He realises why in an instant, “You and Wraith have been getting close, haven’t you?”

  My confirmation comes out on a sob.

  Rubbing my hands over my leaking eyes, I breathe in a sharp breath, “I don’t think I can stay here, Horse. Please take me away.”

  Horse sighs, “I can’t do that, babe. I wouldn’t be able to protect you anywhere else. And you certainly wouldn’t be safe on your own. Remember the contract that’s out on you.” He leans forwards, putting his elbows on his knees, “They live by different rules here, Sophie, rules you don’t understand.”

  “Explain to me, then.” I cry out, “Justify how killing a man can be right?”

  “A man who tried to fucking rape you!” Horse swings round, his eyes narrowed and gazing into mine intently, “If Wraith hadn’t stopped him, just think about that. He could have hurt you badly, or killed you.” As I go to speak, he puts his fingers over my mouth. “Call Wraith, get him back here, and let him have his say. Talk to him, let him explain how the MC works.”

  His words have brought back what happened yesterday, and I shudder remembering how Wraith had saved me in the nick of time. How far would Buster have gone? I really can’t sort out my thoughts, my mind’s racing and I don’t think I can cope with any more. Speak to Wraith? No, not now.

  “Not tonight,” I tell him, wiping the backs of my hands over my eyes to clear the last of my tears, “I just want to forget everything, to go to sleep.” I want to be alone to try and process everything that’s happened. “Aren’t you going to go to the party, Horse?”

  Tilting his head to one side, he looks into my face and ignores both my protest and my question, “Call Wraith back.”

  He seems to think it’s important I speak to Wraith, but I’m not even sure I want to see him again. Or stay here.

  As Horse sits, patiently waiting, giving me time to digest what he’s said, I try to make sense of everything that’s happened. Apart from Buster, nothing that Wraith or any of the others has done has made me feel the slightest bit uneasy staying in the club―leaving aside the free sex shows that is. But now I know they live a different way of life, far closer to Sons of Anarchy than I believed. Buster wouldn’t have stopped. Would I have wanted to live with the fear that he’d come after me again? A violent shiver makes my whole body shake. Or want Buster walking around forcing himself on other women?

  No, of course, I didn’t, but I expected he’d go to prison. But they don’t like involving the police. Instead they meted out their own brand of punishment, extreme in my view, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they go around killing at random and for no reason. Perhaps it’s not good to let my imagination run wild. Perhaps Horse is right. If I gave Wraith a chance to explain, maybe I’d be able to understand him and the life he lives a little better. As an answer, I reach to the bedside table and get my phone.

  Wheels: Can we talk?

  I stare at the phone, willing him to respond, suddenly having a vision of him being with Chrissy or one of the other whores, or perhaps a Tucson girl has caught his eye? As my gut clenches as I realise how much that thought hurts.

  Horse pats my hand as my phone remains silent. A short while later, I give up looking at the screen and put it back where it was on the bedside table.

  “Well, so much for…” I br
eak off as I hear it vibrating on the wood and the accompanying ping.

  Wraith: Be right there.

  Chapter 15

  Wraith

  “What did she think we were gonna do to that motherfucker?” I ask Peg, realising how much I’ve fucked this up.

  Peg moves his head side to side, “She ain’t from here, is she? The club, heck, the US is completely alien to her. You need to speak to her, explain.”

  “Doubt I’m going to get the chance.” She’d looked so disgusted with me, as if I was something she’d scrap off her shoe.

  “Why’d’you tell her?” Drummer’s scrunched up eyes show his displeasure. “She knows too much, now.”

  His words chill me; he doesn’t have to spell the ramifications out. “She’s not gonna tell anyone.” Well, I think I’m certain on that, there’s part of me acknowledging maybe I’m just hopeful. “I didn’t mean to tell her; it just came out when Horse and I were gettin’ into it. I didn’t come right out and say it, but she read between the lines.”

  “You got to make sure she’s gonna keep quiet.” Drum’s normal level of irritation has increased to the point where I know it’s the real thing.

  How the fuck do I do that? “Who would she tell? She’s here at the compound; she won’t be going out anywhere alone.”

  Drum’s eyes open wide, and a vein visibly throbs in his forehead, “She’s got a fuckin’ phone, hasn’t she?” His hand thumps down on the bar. “Get back to her and sort this mess out, VP. Make her see sense.” He doesn’t need to add what the implications are of me failing to do so.

  Stretching my head back on my neck and rolling my shoulders I think there’s nothing I’d like to do more. But will she even listen to me? Before I can say anything else, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I read the message and respond, a tentative smile on my face.

  Slapping Drum on the back I tell him, “I’m gonna see her now.”

  “About fuckin’ time,” he grunts.

  It only takes a few minutes to get to her room, and that’s not enough time to decide how I’m going to decide how I’m going to approach what needs to be said. It’s one thing to try and explain why Buster had to meet Satan; it’s quite another to clarify that it’s likely she’ll be going the same way if the members don’t trust her. I’m just hoping I can stop it going that far. Fuck.

  On the way into their suite, I find Horse waiting for me, pacing the small connecting seating area. “Don’t you fucking hurt her,” he starts, “I’m trusting you Wraith.”

  In response, I glare at him. He knows how the club works, and the penalties for exposing club business, but how can he think I’d harm her? I raise my chin, acknowledging what he’s said. For a few seconds we have a standoff, then, with a small shake of his head he steps aside allowing me to enter.

  Walking across to her bedroom door I knock on it lightly. After I hear her voice, I go inside.

  Closing the door behind me, I lean with my back up against it and watch her warily, trying to assess her mood. Her head’s bowed and she’s using her blond hair like a shield, though I’m still able to see her eyes are red and watery, and I hate that I’ve made her cry.

  “Oh, Wheels…” I go over to her, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in mine.

  She pulls away from my touch. “My name’s Sophie,” she tells me, firmly. “I’m nothing to do with the MC.”

  Staying where I am, I look down while gathering my thoughts together. “You might have been here for gettin’ on a couple of months, but you still don’t know much about us, or our lifestyle, do you?”

  Her eyes flare, “Your club business? Oh no, no one’s told me about that. But I know about how you use women, the club whores, the girls from the city. Now I know you kill people.”

  Pulling myself to my feet, I indicate the bed. She shrugs; I take that as permission to sit. I don’t get too close to her just yet. Putting my elbows on my knees, I cup my face in my hands, idling stroking my beard. “We’re a one percenter motorcycle club, Wheels.” She might hate the name, but it has kind of stuck. “We have our own rules that we live by; we don’t recognise citizens’ rules.”

  Her brow creases, so I continue, “Citizens are what you are, anyone not part of the club or our lifestyle.”

  “Outlaws,” she spits out the word as though even saying it leaves a nasty taste in her mouth.

  I ignore the way she’s said it, just confirm that she’s right. “Yeah, we live outside the law.”

  “So you’re admitting what you do is illegal?”

  “Ain’t going to lie to you babe, and tell you we’re whiter than white. But we run a lot of legit businesses – the strip club, a steakhouse, a construction company and the garage. Most of the members work in one or another. Some things aren’t so legit, but that’s club business and I ain’t gonna be tellin’ you about that. And I can assure you, that neither the club whores nor the city girls are forced to do anythin’ they don’t want to do, that’s a given. They come because they want to be here. Nor do we go around randomly killin’ people. That’s not who we are, darlin’”

  Throwing a sneer at me as I refer to our more nefarious dealings she goes quiet for a moment. When she starts speaking, again she gets to the point, “I don’t know what I expected you to do about Buster, but I didn’t expect you to kill him.”

  “I never said we did.”

  “Not in so many words, but you implied…”

  “I said things I shouldn’t,” I pull on my beard, “I regret that.”

  “Why?” she snaps. “Because you didn’t want me to know the sort of men you are?”

  “No,” I rasp back, “Because you didn’t need to know and what you don’t know can’t hurt you. Look,” I run my hands down my face, “Let me try and explain how we work. Not just anyone can join the club. Someone wants to, well they need to be sponsored as a prospect, and while they’re prospectin’ they do anything they are asked without question, usually for at least a year, and sometimes more. If they prove their loyalty to the club and their willingness to do anythin’ for the club, even give their lives if necessary, they become members. Once a member you’re a member for life. And members do whatever’s needed for the club, die for it if necessary. There’s no getting’ out, or not very often. Unless you’re kicked out, and that ain’t pretty.”

  She’s mumbling; I have to ask her to speak up, “It sounds more like a prison sentence. What’s the benefit?”

  That’s easy. “The club is a family, and we call each other brother as that’s what we are to each other. Brothers. Maybe not related by blood, but just as close―if not closer―than if we were. We’d give our lives for each other.” I pause, and then tell her the plain truth of it, “And for those under our protection.”

  Her eyes flash, “I’d never ask that…”

  “I know you wouldn’t. And I’d have hoped it would never come to it. But that’s what we sign up for when we join the MC. And that’s why we take the betrayal of a brother so hard.” I pause again, “The Satan’s Devils may not be saints, but we don’t hurt women. We run a strip club, yeah, but the strippers are salaried dancers, not prostitutes. We don’t trade in flesh. I ain’t gonna lie to ya; some MCs do, but not the Satan’s Devils.”

  She shudders, and I move a little closer to her. “What did you want? To get the law involved? D’you know what would have happened if you’d reported Buster to the cops?” It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t wait for her answer, “I’ll tell you. They’d have looked into it, sure, but it would have been a question of whether they’d believed you, or accepted my story as the witness. He might have been arrested, been taken to court. He might have got himself a fancy lawyer and got away with that shit. And you’d be dragged through the mill. They might not have been able to bring up anythin’ in your sexual past in court, but a clever counsel could have found ways of alludin’ to it. They could probably make a virgin look promiscuous.”

  She turns her face to mine and looks at me properly
for the first time since I entered the room. Her hand comes up to touch my face, “He could have got away with it? That’s what you’re saying? So your form of justice made sure he was punished.”

  “Yeah, babe. Perhaps not the citizen way, but we made sure Buster wouldn’t hurt another woman ever again.”

  Again she goes quiet for a moment, and then asks, “How did he get into the MC if you’re all about keeping women safe?”

  That’s a good question, and I think on it for a moment, “He transferred in from the San Diego chapter several months ago. To be honest, they seemed well rid of his shit. From what I knew of him, he’d never have got his patch if he prospected here.”

  “It’s all so strange to me, Wraith.”

  “It must be, darlin’. It must be.”

  Now I can’t help myself, I pull her towards me but feel a slight resistance as she tries to keep a distance between us. But from the intent expression on her face, she’s not trying to evade my touch; she’s got something else to say.

  “I hate being so helpless, Wraith. If I’d been able to move, I might have been able to get away or to fight. I’ve been here thinking about it.” She touches my beard with her hand, an almost unconscious action. “I don’t want to be so weak and defenceless anymore. I’m going to work on getting my strength back once I’ve got my new prosthesis. It was my vulnerability that made him think I was easy game.”

  I can’t help but admire her; she’s fighting back, not letting what happened defeat her. “I’ll give you all the help I can, darlin’.”

  “And Wraith?”

  “What is it, babe?”

  “I want something to defend myself with, a gun or a knife. Some sort of weapon.” She looks down at her hands, and then glances up, “I suppose, if I could have done, I’d have killed him to keep him from touching me.” She gives a short self-deprecating laugh, “Which makes me no better than you.”

  “Heat of the moment, darlin’. You might have been able to if you had to defend yourself, but someone like you wouldn’t do anythin’ in cold blood.” And that’s the difference between us. Not that my blood had been anything but red hot when we dispatched Buster.